


shoulder to shoulder, brother

by ghostsongs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-19 00:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostsongs/pseuds/ghostsongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re headed towards a collision, an end, a burst of fire and light then nothing. They really can’t bring themselves to care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shoulder to shoulder, brother

**Author's Note:**

> Season 5 AU; spoilers for 5x10

They’re headed towards a collision, an end, a burst of fire and light then _nothing_.

They really can’t bring themselves to care.

Both stretched too thin, almost to the absolute limit. Too much time spent on the road, nothing but black asphalt and burning skies. So exhausted they can feel it in their bones, a throbbing ache with every movement. Sleepless nights followed by sleepless mornings and sleepless afternoons. No rest and no peace, only a suffocating silence permeating every intake of air.

 _Breathe in, breathe out._

Dean doesn’t play his mix tapes. Black Sabbath, Metallica, AC/DC, are all ominously silent. Sam doesn’t constantly bother him with his extensive knowledge. When it’s the end of the world, the fucking _apocalypse_ , why bother?

None of that live like you’re dying crap. They’ll spend their last days like always, hunting monsters ( _though maybe they’re the real monsters in this story_ ), living in seedy motel rooms, and drinking themselves into a stupor. They’re creatures of habit, after all.

They don’t even bother with goodbyes. It’s not like there’s anyone left. On some back road in the middle of nowhere, they had found Bobby, broken and lifeless, surrounded by mangled bodies devoid of their demon owners. They had been too late, hadn’t pushed their bodies hard enough, fast enough, and their surrogate father had paid the price. Ellen and Jo – well, they hadn’t fared any better. Victims of the needle-sharp teeth of hellhounds, followed by a blinding explosion, no bodies left for a hunter’s burial. Bobby, Ellen, Jo, John and Mary, all dead because of them. _Their_ fault. Maybe that’s what pushed them over the edge, over the proverbial cliff. All that guilt, all those deaths heavy on their shoulders, in their hearts. Maybe that’s why they gave up on the world, on humanity.

Apathy towards mankind. That’s what they’re feeling.

So they screw the angels, screw the demons, and screw the humans. Everyone and everything.

They’re tired of cleaning up everyone’s messes. Dean’s been doing that for as long as he can remember, is done with repeating his mistakes – just like clockwork, _tick-tock tick-tock_. They’ll hunt for their own benefit, thank you very much. For the thrill of the fight, the adrenaline pumping through their veins, leaving them shaky and trembling with the pulsing need to fuck or drink. Let someone else be savior of the universe. They sure as hell never asked to be _that_.

Sam hopes the world ends in some brilliant and beautiful manner. Thinks it’ll be a form of poetic justice, this technology-driven civilization vanquished by the strong and merciless powers of nature. He prays it will quick, no slow decay or long winded agony. Just a flash of light, inevitable destruction, and then a spiral into nothingness. An end to fear, pain, worry, existence; the long-awaited arrival of oblivion.

But Dean, he doesn’t really give a fuck how everything ends. He just hopes that God’s dead, he’s damned otherwise. ( _Literally, that fiery chasm beckons him._ ) Abandoning every single one of His creatures, leaving them all to die, won’t make him much of a righteous man in anyone’s eyes. He’ll settle for Sammy’s salvation, can deal with tortures of Hell if his baby brother’s alright. But Dean will never tell anyone how much he hopes Sam’s right. Oblivion would be nice.

So they’ll drive to end of all roads. Laughing, talking about nothing at all, patiently awaiting the culmination of everything they’ve worked for, their lives. Two brothers, irreparably broken and damaged but still _together_ , spending their final days caught up in each other, blind to the deteriorating world. Genuinely and undeniably _happy_ , without any sliver of a doubt. And somehow that makes every action and decision -even forsaking, damning mankind- in their eyes, okay.

The world ends with a bang, consumed by fire and ice, _bloody_.

Just like they wanted it.

  



End file.
